


Celebration

by bell (bellaboo)



Category: House M.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-13
Updated: 2009-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:52:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/pseuds/bell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What’s there to say? Happy birthday? What a big boy you've become?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Zulu's birthday!

Foreman had meant to pass the day without comment. He’d moved to Princeton recently, after being hired by House, and it wasn’t as if anyone knew him that well at work. But first thing in the morning, while Chase was still drinking his coffee and House focused on his DS, Cameron pulled a small, wrapped box from her briefcase. “Happy birthday, Foreman.” Her cheeks dimpled.

Chase looked up. “It’s your birthday?”

“Yeah.” Out of curiosity, Foreman glanced at the office, where House was. He didn’t react at all to the news.

Chase nodded. “Have a good one.”

“Thanks.” This was part of the reason why he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone, to avoid these empty wishes.

Cameron, however, seemed to have other ideas. “House, aren’t you going to say anything?” Her words were heavy with moral righteousness.

House didn’t even look up from his game. “What’s there to say? Happy birthday? What a big boy you’ve become? People are going to fake-smile, you gave him a crappy present, his parents are going to call him, and he’ll go out for a beer with his friends. Predictable and boring.”

“That’s not true,” Foreman said before he thinking twice, and immediately regretted it.

House’s eyebrows shot up. “Interesting.” Foreman could imagine his mental calculations, approaching this anomaly like he would any diagnosis. The parts about crappy presents and fake-smiles he’d already witnessed, here and now. House also knew his parents were alive, if not well, and that there was no reason for them not to call him. It was easy to detect the not-true element. And knowing House, he wouldn’t let it go.

Foreman wasn’t wrong. Hours later, filling out the information on the last clinic patient he’d treated, House plopped himself into an office chair next to him, resting his hands and chin over the curve of his cane. “If you’re not going to drink up to your old age, what does that leave? Hookers? But you’re too proud for that. Planning on cruising?”

“Has it occurred to you I don’t have any plans because I don’t _care_ what day it is?”

House scrunched up his face, considering this notion. “No, that’s not enough. You’re right, you don’t care it’s your birthday, but you care what other people think of you. It’s a Friday, and it’d be easy to have a big bash. You could invite Chase and Cameron and whoever else you’ve met here, show everyone just how popular you are.”

“I’m not, though.” Foreman closed the patient file hard enough to make the paper rustle. “Which means you’re wrong. Are you done now?”

“If you’re not,” House speculated, eyes looking upwards as he turned slightly from side, “that means something bigger than your pride is at work. What would that be?”

“Your mouth?” Foreman slotted the files into the inbox and walked away.  
House rose, the chair clattering as it rolled behind him, and followed Foreman. “You don’t want to spend it with anyone. You don’t want the pleasantries, the politeness, the putting up with everyone else. Why?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would. That’s why I’m asking. Don’t play well with the other kids, Eric?”

“Drop it, House. I’m sure there are other fascinating mysteries right here in his clinic.” Foreman waved his hand, pointing at the possibilities. “Why don’t you go ask that guy why he’s popping breath mints like it’s medicine, or that woman why she can’t stop scratching the back of her hand.”

“Dr. Foreman!” House exclaimed with mock indignation. “Are you sending me to harass our patients, these poor, sick people who have come seeking our help?” Foreman pressed his lips into a thin line. He shouldn’t have said that. “No wonder you’re spending the night alone, you’d make Marilyn Manson cry with your heartlessness.”

“Drop it,” Foreman repeated, more firmly. And House did, for then.

*

Foreman still had new-job paperwork to fill out, so he was the last of the fellows to leave. Before going out, Chase and Cameron both wished him a happy birthday again. He nodded a goodbye to each.

He’d been waiting all day for House to corner him once more, barraging him with a new set of questions. So when House approached him, as he put on his winter coat, Foreman put on an aloof, uncaring expression.

“The Cascade has a pretty good alcohol selection.”

Of all the questions and comments Foreman had expected, this was not amongst them. “What?”

“The music is terrible, but if you get drunk enough, you won’t notice.”

Foreman frowned. “House, are inviting me for a drink?”

“Absolutely not. But I might be there tonight.”

Weird. Just plain weird. House was asking him out, in his uncouth way. Foreman should say no. He could barely stand House at work, and he wouldn’t be any better in a bar. All logic pointed towards saying no. “I might go there, too,” Foreman said casually, god knew why. He was kind of curious, and hanging out with House would probably make for a good story, but it was really not the smart thing to do.

Foreman strode to the glass door and opened it, but before he walked out, he had to pause. “Why?”

House shrugged. “I told you already. Your hating people is interesting.”

“I don’t hate people!” Foreman shook his head, turning towards the exit again.

“Foreman.”

“What.”

“If you want me to put out, you’ll have to get me _real_ drunk.”

Foreman didn’t know House well enough to recognize all his tones and expressions, but he could tell it wasn’t entirely a joke. Fuck. There was no good way to answer that, not to his boss. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be a joke. So he just smirked, to match House’s flippancy. “Same here.”


End file.
